


Platonic Kisses

by theycallherluckyo



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, M/M, five times fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 08:10:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1503188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theycallherluckyo/pseuds/theycallherluckyo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Harry kisses Nick and the one time Nick realises it's more than platonic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Platonic Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Written a while ago, when Harry was still a baby and Nick was 28.

It’s over a game of Uno that it happens the first time, of all things.   

When Harry says they should play the game Nick groans, because, “Really Harry, don’t you think you’re a bit old for this now?” but inwardly he cheers because he bloody loves playing Uno.   

Nick pauses in his bedroom, cards in hand, fully intending to pretend it took him longer to find the box when in reality it only takes him about 30 seconds to get them. Because seriously, he loves Uno.   

The several bottles of wine they’ve shared probably doesn’t help Nick’s ego, because he’s sure he’s going to win this. So when Harry puts down his last card and cheers, Nick goes batshit. ”Um, no no no, Styles. You didn’t say Uno.”

  "Did too!" Harry retaliates, shock and disgust etched onto his face.  

"Well I didn’t hear it so it doesn’t count. Pick up 4!" Nick tells him, because really, Harry did not say Uno.  

"I said Uno. I won!" The pitch of Harry’s voice rises; obviously Harry isn’t going to let Nick carry on with the game. Obviously, because that’s Harry Styles, isn’t it.  

"Just accept you didn’t win!" Nick shouts, crawling over the soft carpet so his face is inches from the boy’s. Nick likes to get up in people’s faces when he’s angry; Harry knows this. Nick thinks it intimidates them, but it just makes Harry laugh (and want to kiss him quite a lot).

  If Harry’s honest he purposely didn’t say Uno because he knew Nick would do this. He secretly loves being so close to Nick's face, because it’s very funny (and a really lovely face), Harry thinks.  

"Don’t laugh at me, Styles." Nick growls, which doesn’t stop Harry’s amusement (and arousal). "Stop it," Nick whines, head butting the boy lightly on the forehead.  

"Sorry," Harry mumbles and stops laughing, but he has to bite his lip to stop the enormous grin that’s bound to spread over his face if Grimmy doesn’t stop looking at him like that (‘Christ, you’re cute for an old man’ Harry muses).   Harry doesn’t realise he said that out loud until Nick glares at him and whines, 

“You promised not to call me an old man. I’m not even 30. You can’t call me old when I’m only 28. I’ll call you old when you turn 28, see how you like-“  

"Oh shut up," Harry interrupts and some fuse in his brain blows and somehow his hand is round Nick’s neck and their lips are pressed together and they’re kissing.  

Nick pulls away after a while, his common sense finally returning. “Maybe we’ve had too much to drink,” he chuckles, moving back to his original seat.

  "Yeah," Harry agrees, chuckle with him. He acts like it was nothing, just a drunk impulse, but a little bit of his heart cracks off when Nick brushes it off.

**

They’re in Waitrose when it happens the second time.  
Nick and Harry are in the biscuit aisle at quarter past 10 one evening. Harry is eating grapes he hasn’t paid for yet, and Nick is trying to decide between garibaldis or Hobnobs.

“Get custard creams.” Harry mumbles through a mouthful of grape.

“Custard creams? Don’t be a dick.” Nick tells him; as though getting custard creams is the most preposterous thing he’s ever heard.

Harry swallows, “I like custard creams,” he says, shocked Nick could imply they were not in fact, “the best biscuit in the world,” he states, “aside from chocolate bourbons.”

Nick huffs and turns to face the teen, “I often say you’re incredibly mature for your age, but then you remind me you’re only a child by saying you like chocolate bourbons.” He rolls his eyes and turns back to the Hobnobs and garibaldis, like starring at the packets will help his decision. “Next you’ll tell me to get fucking party rings.”

“Ooh I love party rings!” Harry squeals (well, the only way Nick can describe it is a squeal, but it’s incredibly low pitched. That’s Harry Styles for you, managing to make a squeal manly).

Nick audibly groans and thinks he might gaffer tape Harry’s mouth up next time he takes him to Waitrose. If he ever takes him to Waitrose again, that is.

“Look, why don’t you just get a packet of Hobnobs and a packet of garibaldis?” Harry askes, because really, “wouldn’t that be the sensible thing to do, Nicholas?”

Nick looks at Harry like he’s a complete moron, before his expression changes and he realises that’s not actually a ridiculous idea. “Maybe you do have a brain,” Nick says as he picks up both packets and turns to face Harry, who is standing quite a lot closer than expected. Nick doesn’t move away, though.

Harry grins and looks around quickly, seeing there’s nobody about he leans up on tiptoes and presses him lips to Nick’s in a chaste kiss, before he spins and walks off down the aisle to the check-out round the corner.

Nick stands there for a few seconds, eyes wide, before shaking his head and following the lad.

***  
Nick is on air the third time.  
It’s just gone 8 o’clock in the morning and Nick is busy presenting the breakfast show when none other than Mr Styles walks in to the building. He waves at Nick from the other side of the large window, separating the studio. It’s the first time Harry has come to visit him in the morning, and Nick can’t keep the smile off his face.

They wouldn’t mention Harry’s presence when he visited his old show, so Nick doesn’t say anything on air about Harry being here now. He introduces the next song, queues up a couple more and Matt lets Harry in. The lad comes bounding in like an overgrown puppy and crushes Nick in (what Nick thinks must be Harry’s attempt at) a hug.

“Get off me you great lummox.” Nick exclaims, and pushes the boy off him. Harry pouts at him and stalks off to Fiona, giving her a hug instead. She gratefully accepts and winks at Grimmy cheekily.

“She’s too old for you, Harold," Nick tells him, smirking when Fiona gives him a look that could kill.

“Haven’t you heard?” Harry responds, “I like mature, beautiful women.” He’s sitting in Fiona’s lap now, even though she’s smaller than him. He strokes her hair dramatically, turning to raise an eyebrow at Nick. 

Nick doesn’t even notice he’s glaring at them until Harry says, “Jealous, Grimshaw?” and raises an eyebrow.

Nick huffs, turns and goes to sort things out on the desk, but he’s already got music lined up and he doesn’t need to press any buttons for 50 seconds.

Harry frowns and gets off Fiona, giving her a look. She rolls her eyes, but grins at him, swatting him away. Harry walks over to Nick and falls on top of him, putting his arms round him. Thankfully the webcams aren’t on and the Nick’s microphone isn’t on, so the public don’t hear or see him squirm.

Nick puts his hand over Harry mouth to shush him as he puts his microphone up, naming the last few songs and telling the listeners what’s coming up before putting on another track. He takes his hand away when Harry licks him.

“Erg, gross” Nick whines, wiping his hands on Harry’s jeans. Nick pouts but Harry just laughs and pecks him on the lips.

Nick can think about anything else for the rest of the day.

****

Harry and Nick are looking after Lux the fourth time.

Lou and Tom have gone out for a romantic meal and Harry offered to babysit the little one.

Nick just rolls his eyes and lets him in when Harry knocks on his door, toddler in arms. 

They find themselves sat on the settee watching Lux’s Pepper Pig DVD, all three cuddled up in a blanket. Nick is the only one actually watching the television. Harry is watching Nick, and Lux is trying to push Harry’s head towards the older man’s.

(Lou jokingly told them once Lux is a hard-core gryles shipper. Nick, later, had to look up what that meant. Harry didn’t.)

“Stop it, Luxy,” Harry whispers to her, quiet enough Nick doesn’t hear. She pouts at him, screwing up her tiny face and swats him on the nose. “Hey, no hitting, or the tickle monster will get you,” Harry says, louder now. Lux just grins and bops his nose with her tiny hand again. “Cheeky!” Harry cries, and brings his hands up to her sides, tickling her so she squeals.

Nick looks round then and grins, joining in the playing by tickling Harry. The lad jumps and curls up on the sofa, and Nick and Lux tickle him until he begs them to stop.

Later, Nick and Harry tuck Lux in her travel cot, ready for her parents to take her home. Harry lies back on the couch, leaning his head on Nick’s shoulder. “You’d make a good daddy,” Nick tells him, putting his arm round the lad’s shoulders.  
Harry grins up at Nick, and Nick isn’t even surprised when he feels a soft pair of lips on his. Harry is just telling him thank you. That’s all, right?

*****

Harry has to full on spell it out to Nick in the end.

They’re in a little Indian restaurant round the corner from Nick's house, eating curries in a secluded area. A two people have asked for autographs (from both of them to Nick’s surprise), but it’s relatively quiet.

“So I wanted to talk to you,” Harry starts, looking up from his barely touched curry, “about something important.”

“And what’s that, love?” Nick askes. He puts down his fork and takes a sip of his bear, looking at the boy waiting for him to continue.

“Okay, so… Have ever been in a situation where you really like someone, and you think you’ve made it really bloody clear that you like them but they are still completely oblivious and you don’t know what else to do?” Harry askes, and stares into his plate the whole time

“You like someone? You want me to set them up with you or something?” Nick replies, getting a little excited at the prospect of becoming a matchmaker. He can imagine it now, Harry and a mystery girl, a beautiful white wedding, Harry looking gorgeous in a grey suit with a light blue tie, Mystery-girl in a big white dress. Then at the reception they'll thank Grimmy for setting them up, and everyone will love him for putting together the power couple of the century.

“You’re such a moron sometimes, Grim” Harry interrupts his day dream. Harry thinks about dropping the whole thing, forgetting he even liked Grimmy and getting it over with before Nick even notices. Nick doesn't let him.

“Hey that’s not fair, what do you mean?” He protests, wondering why Harry’s being all dicky all of a sudden.

“What I mean,” Harry starts, his volume rises; he’s getting frustrated now, because Nick just will not take the hint. “I like you, okay? You’re the person I like, and you’re completely oblivious, even when I kiss you all the time! I can’t take it anymore.” Harry huffs, and stabs his chicken violently.

They sit in silence for a while before Nick pipes up, “I don’t think I could work a white dress.” He forgets Harry can’t hear his internal monologue sometimes.

“Are you even listening, Nick?,” Harry asks, aggravated “I don’t care about your cross-dressing tendencies right now, because I’m trying to tell you that - despite your tendencies - I really like you.”

Nick smiles at him and shakes his head, more telling himself off for saying that than for what Harry is saying. “I’m listening, I am… I was just- never mind” Nick stutters. He’s really quite flattered now, knowing that those ‘platonic’ kisses where actually more, and oh… he said that out loud.

Harry blushes but grins, “Yeah, I thought you’d get the hint. Evidently not” he smirks, and turns his gaze to his food, but he still can’t bring himself to eat any from the butterflies in his tummy.

“The thing with me, Haz, is you just have to say it. I’m not good with hints.” Nick informs him. “Thanks for spilling it out..” he trails off, not really sure what to say next.

“So..” Harry mumbles, his cheeks flush and his insides do a little flip before he asks, “What do you say to drinks, as a, sort of, coupley-type drinks?” he’s stumbling over his words. He’s never had that around Nick before, Nick notices.

“I’d say, I’d like that very much, actually,” Nick muses, lifting his head to grin at the curly haired lad in front of him “and I’d also say, I think you should give me a kiss now.”

It takes less than 2 seconds from Harry’s lips to be on Nick’s.


End file.
